


it's not just you

by antivanitas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Creampie, Daddy Kink, M/M, Master/Slave, Trans Keith (Voltron), Vaginal Sex, galra commander shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 05:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antivanitas/pseuds/antivanitas
Summary: Even though he’s already dressed in practically nothing, Keith feels drastically more exposed when Shiro’s dark eyes roam across his body.  Shiro wants him.  That knowledge alone is enough to have Keith growing wetter, enough to need to rub his thighs together.“I told them to bring you in naked.”





	it's not just you

When the door to the chamber shuts with a sense of finality and anticipation, Keith realizes he’s in a lot of trouble.

 

His heart is fucking  _ pounding _ .  Shiro is standing there, facing the observation window that takes up most of the wall.  Even though the only thing beyond it is the void of space, Keith feels like he’s putting himself on display at a shopping mall.  His breath comes out in soft pants through parted lips.  He only has to take two steps forward for Shiro to hear him.

 

Shiro turns his body halfway towards Keith, and the light from the stars illuminates him from behind, and Keith has to keep himself from choking on air.  Shiro is already shirtless, his map of scars on display.  The Champion is always ready for him, even when he’s  _ pissed _ .  Which, he is.

 

He lost a battle.  Not one in the arena, because that’s  _ impossible _ , and no one has ever beaten Shiro.  No.  The Champion became the Commander several months ago, and his first attempts at leading haven’t been too promising.  He’d never lose his position, of course, but it still makes Keith nervous.

 

When Shiro is angry, Keith is either used as his stress ball, or he’s tossed to the side to be ignored. 

 

Even though he’s already dressed in practically nothing, Keith feels drastically more exposed when Shiro’s dark eyes roam across his body.  Shiro  _ wants _ him.  That knowledge alone is enough to have Keith growing wetter, enough to need to rub his thighs together.

 

“I told them to bring you in naked.” 

 

Keith glances down at himself--he’s wearing red silks that drape across his midsection from his matching lace top.  His underwear can hardly be spoken for, though there’s enough material to see that it is, also, red.  A thin ruby collar is strapped around his neck.  Keith would count himself as naked, in that he wouldn’t wear this except to service someone.

 

That someone, right now, being Shiro.

 

He doesn’t know what to say.  He keeps his gaze on the floor, not wanting to be disrespectful in his silence.  He pulls his lip between his teeth when he hears Shiro moving closer.  The man isn’t wearing his boots; Shiro is wearing a pair of comfortable pants, and nothing else.

 

It does things to Keith that he isn’t comfortable admitting, because Shiro is his master.  Keith is his prize.  Keith isn’t supposed to be wet just  _ thinking _ about whether or not Shiro is already hard--otherwise, they’d be classified as lovers.

 

The Champion grips Keith’s chin roughly until their eyes meet.  Keith could get trapped in the black holes of Shiro’s pupils, and he tries to keep breathing evenly, but holy  _ shit _ .  His whole body is burning.  His cheeks are probably flushed, because Shiro smirks, and that  _ alone _ makes Keith’s knees weak.

 

“You look cute like this, though,” Shiro hums.  He tilts Keith’s face to the side, as if to examine his features.  “Pretty.  But, I know where you’d be prettier.”

 

With one rough shove, Keith is forced to his knees.  His bones clack against the elaborate stone floor, and they’ll be bruised and red by tomorrow morning.  He hates himself for having to bite back a whimper at the thought.  All because of Shiro.

 

Keith doesn’t waste time.  His hands are quick and agile, precise, with no hint of nervousness or clumsiness.  Thin fingers hook into Shiro’s pants, and he tugs, just enough to tease the fabric across the tops of Shiro’s thighs.  It catches on Shiro’s semi-hard cock, and Keith noses against it.  Fuck.   _ Fuck _ .

 

Shiro’s strong and scarred hands comb through Keith’s hair, deceivingly gentle, before Keith feels a sharp pain against his scalp.  Shiro drags him closer, and his pants drop lower.

 

Keith hums, trying to hide his excitement.  He remembers when his life as a slave for Shiro first began, back when he was defiant and crude.  He had refused to undress.  Whenever Shiro tried to break him, Keith would fight back, and Shiro would fuck him so hard that he couldn’t sit down.  Keith hadn’t enjoyed the feeling, then.

 

He  _ craves _ it, now.

 

“You’re being so good for me,” Shiro coos his praise, and Keith’s eyes flutter shut.  His tongue languidly runs along the underside of Shiro’s cock, followed by his tight fist.  “Fuck--you’re a good little slut, aren’t you?”

 

Keith shivers, and he moans his agreement.  He doesn’t speak, though; he uses that energy to take Shiro completely into his mouth, until his nose is pressed against Shiro’s skin.

 

He remembers trying to do this for the first time, too.  Shiro made him practice until he didn’t gag.  He had used a kind of soft, harsh encouragement that Keith hadn’t expected.  Shiro’s just...like that.  He has a way of demeaning Keith, making him feel like a sex toy, all the while using his charm to tell Keith how much of a  _ good boy _ he is.

 

Mixed signals.  That’s how Keith would describe Shiro’s behavior.  Sometimes, Keith can delude himself into thinking that Shiro loves him.

 

Another tug at the hair near the base of his head, and Shiro pulls Keith off, a string of saliva following the obscene sound of Keith’s departing wet lips.  “I asked you a  _ question _ .”

 

But, he  _ wants cock _ .  Keith surges forward impatiently, but Shiro keeps him in place.  It’s clear that he won’t have his mouth filled unless he answers properly.

 

“I’m yours, Master,” he breathes, purposefully wetting his lips, just to watch Shiro’s eyes follow the movement.  “I’m your little whore.”

 

These words have never been used in a demeaning way against Keith.  Ever.  Shiro has never referred to him as such to anyone else.  On the rare occasions when he’s been flaunted at gatherings, Shiro has kept a firm grip on Keith’s waist, practically snarling at anyone else who dared look their way.

 

The possessiveness is probably what made Keith start to enjoy his time with Shiro.  He realized that, to Shiro, he wasn’t just an object.  He may have been granted because of Shiro’s success, but Shiro would never  _ hurt _ him.  Shiro must respect him, to a degree.  Keith hopes, foolishly, that Shiro wants something more than what they have.

 

He feels like a  _ prince _ , though, when Shiro pulls Keith to his feet and shoves him lightly towards the bed.  The action is almost caring.  Shiro’s pants are left behind in a bundle on the floor, forgotten, and Keith can’t take his gaze away from between Shiro’s legs.  His cock is still glistening from Keith’s mouth.

 

Predatory, Shiro crawls over Keith with a sense of agency and urgency.  Keith immediately spreads his legs to accommodate, and he knows that, at this point, he’s being overly excited.  It’s obvious that he’s dripping because of Shiro’s actions.  When he’s exposed to the cool air of the room, he can feel the tiny wet spot on the sliver of fabric covering his modesty.

 

Shiro smirks.  He takes his time, using his thumb to draw tiny circles around the dampness, and Keith’s breath shatters.  The slave arches his back, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the moans that follow.

 

The commander looks pleased with himself, knowing that he’s caused Keith to have such a reaction to these touches.  Shiro is staring down at him less like he’s a reward, and more like he’s a precious commodity.  Something to be kept high on a shelf and revered often.

 

Shiro reaches out and moves Keith’s hand.  For a moment, Keith thinks Shiro is going to reprimand him for making noises out of turn.  Instead, once again defying Keith’s expectations, Shiro leans down to seal their lips together.

 

Keith gasps into the kiss, draping his arms over Shiro’s shoulders to pull him closer.  It’s deep, passionate, and Keith  _ revels _ in the attention.  The soft touches.  He feels Shiro’s knuckles brush his cheek, and when Shiro pulls away, their lips are still brushing when he whispers, “I want to hear you.”

 

Keith tries not to gasp too loudly.  He nods, dumbly, unable to form words.

 

“Is my baby boy enjoying himself?” Shiro purrs, and Keith  _ whines _ , thighs quivering in a threat to close.  Shiro keeps them open effortlessly.  “Tell me.”

 

They’re doing this.  Only twice before has Shiro requested that Keith indulge him in this kink.  At first, Keith didn’t understand the appeal.  He even thought it was a bit weird, but he wasn’t opposed.  Now?  Now, he thinks about it when he’s forced to sleep without Shiro by his side.  When Shiro is off in battle, and Keith is left to his own devices, and he cries out  _ Daddy _ in the night.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Keith whimpers, immediately.  “ _ Fuck _ .  Yes.”

 

Shiro laughs, a cross between cruelty and fascination.  Keith’s eyes are clenched shut, now, but he can feel Shiro’s fingertips exploring the expanse of his stomach, then his chest, then underneath the pathetic excuse for a top.

 

“Hands up,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith obeys without question.  The silks draping across his torso tickle his skin, and he shivers, unbearably oversensitive to a degree he never thought possible.  “You’re so pretty for me, baby.”

 

He loves this.  He loves the feeling in his lower stomach, a burning sensation that creeps across his chest.

 

He loves Shiro.

 

Keith has seen other slaves working in the past.  They never enjoyed it.  He could tell by the looks on their faces that they were only completing their roles--Keith, too, had once been metaphorically held at gunpoint to service Shiro.  There’s a  _ difference _ in reaction when Keith wants or doesn’t want something, and he physically cannot feign enthusiasm.

 

It’s why Shiro is so hard, right now, rutting between Keith’s legs as he kisses his slave with abandon.  He knows Keith  _ actually _ loves this, that he actually wants  _ more _ .  Keith can’t hide how much he needs Shiro’s touch, his tongue.

 

“Turn over,” Shiro growls.  Keith bites back a languid smile, and rolls, feline-like, onto his stomach.  In a fluid motion, he follows Shiro’s tugging until his ass is in the air and his elbows are flat against the mattress.

 

“Please,” he begs pathetically.  “Please, Daddy,  _ fuck _ me.”

 

But, as always, Shiro wants to take his time.

 

Slowly, his master rolls his panties down his legs, and Keith wishes he would just rip them off, because that’s how badly he wants to get  _ fucked _ .  A broken moan falls from Keith’s lips; Shiro is spreading him, pulling Keith’s folds apart with his thumbs.  Keith is dizzy, and his forehead falls to the mattress.

 

“Daddy,” he whispers desperately.  “ _ Please _ .”

 

Then, a warm tongue is between his thighs, as Shiro teases around his core.  Keith knows he’s throbbing.  Shiro groans low in his chest.  A sharp thrill runs through Keith’s body, knowing that Shiro loves this.  It’s filthy, and the position is anything but romantic.  He has to bite his lip from grinning in satisfaction.

 

And then, Shiro is fucking him with his tongue,  _ just _ shallow enough to drive Keith mad.  It doesn’t hit him deep, it doesn’t fill him up, but it’s  _ hot _ and  _ warm _ and  _ wet _ .  Shiro’s tongue presses against Keith’s clit, teasing him.  Keith wants to cry out and demand more, but he knows he’d be punished--he knows Shiro doesn’t have to fuck him right now.  Shiro could walk away and leave Keith dripping and gasping and aching.

 

“Do you wanna get fucked, baby boy?” Shiro taunts.  He’s rising to his knees, now, pressing his hips against Keith’s ass.  “Do you want me to come inside you?”

 

Oh, fuck.

 

He  _ does _ .  But, ever in character, Keith whines loudly and shakes his head.  “ _ No _ , Daddy.”

 

The head of Shiro’s cock brushes against his folds, and Keith jolts, bucking his hips back.  Shiro scoffs out a smug laugh.  “That doesn’t look like a ‘no,’ baby.”

 

“It’s  _ bad _ .”  Keith is panting, drooling onto the sheets, eyes half-lidded.  “You  _ can’t _ .”

 

“But I want you to feel good, baby,” Shiro purrs in his ear, bending over his body and caging him from behind.  “Don’t you want to feel good?”

 

Keith gasps when Shiro slides in about an inch before pulling away again--God, that’s so fucking good.  Keith wants to be split wide open, he wants to be  _ destroyed _ .  “Daddy...no, it’s bad.”

 

“You’re being so good for me, though,” Shiro praises, and  _ that’s _ when he finally slips inside.  Keith is wet enough that there is absolutely no resistance.  He hears Shiro’s breath catch, and shoves his hips back as a response.  It hits him so deep that he feels Shiro’s cock in his throat.

 

“It’s too big,” Keith whimpers, even though it isn’t, and he feels so delightfully full.  He presses down on his pelvis, hoping that he might feel the bump of Shiro inside of him.  “It won’t fit!”

 

Then, he feels Shiro bottom out, and Keith rolls his hips desperately--it’s so intense, and he can’t contain the noises he makes, which are needy and unintelligible.  Shiro rocks his hips, fully inside of him, pressing  _ hard _ against Keith’s cervix.

 

God, he could come inside, and Keith would leak for  _ hours _ .

 

Shiro always comes on his back, or his face, or his stomach.  And Keith loves that.  He always begs for more, always pleads with Shiro to come inside, but Shiro never does.  He’s afraid, most likely.  Keith  _ wants _ it, though.  He wants Shiro to use him--when he’s with Shiro, he’s nothing but a tool.  A toy.

 

“God, baby, you’re so wet,” Shiro groans.  His fingertips flirt with the leather of Keith’s collar, and drag down his spine.  “So fucking tight for me.”

 

“Fuck me,” Keith begs.  He can’t keep character anymore.  He can’t  _ think _ when Shiro is inside of him.  “ _ Fuck _ me.”

 

That’s when Shiro  _ yanks _ on Keith’s collar, dragging him up onto his knees.  Keith chokes, a painful sting across his throat, as Shiro forces his head to the side and fucks into him so hard that he jerks and nearly falls.

 

“What was that?” Shiro growls.  His left hand drifts across Keith’s hips, dipping between his thighs to roll his clit.  Keith’s vision cuts out as he tries to regain composure.  “Were you telling me what to do?”

 

“No, Master,” Keith gasps.  This is not the time to fuck around with kinks or roles.  Shiro is deadly serious, his voice like needles.  His teeth dig into the soft skin behind Keith’s ear, threatening to draw blood.  “No, I’m--I’m sorry, Master.”

 

The fear of Shiro stopping, of leaving him to his own devices, is so sharp that it has Keith’s heart hurting.  He wants to beg.  He wants to  _ demand _ , but he can’t.

 

“You’re mine,” Shiro says darkly, slowly slipping back into his character.  “You’re mine, baby boy, aren’t you?”

 

Keith nods frantically, and is shoved to the mattress once more.  Shiro is unrelenting, driving into him with a need that rivals their previous escapades.  Keith grips the sheets and bites down on his lip so hard that it tears the skin.  A particularly hard thrust has his knees giving out.

 

But, Shiro grips onto his waist and keeps him at the perfect angle.  Keith can feel his orgasm building, his thighs shaking and pushing together like he’s trying to force Shiro to come inside him.

 

“I need it, Daddy,” he babbles.  “Fuck, please, I need your come.”

 

Shiro’s hips stutter.  Keith arches his spine, because he’s so  _ close _ and he only needs a few more thrusts before he breaks.  “Daddy!  Please, don’t stop.”

 

And it resumes.  Only, this time, Shiro is deep inside, and doesn’t pull out completely.  Keith finally unravels when Shiro moans his name.

 

“ _ Fuck _ , Keith.”

 

It sounds so good on his tongue.  It rings in Keith’s mind as it breaks, tearing through his body and it seems to last  _ forever _ .  He shakes and spasms, tightening around Shiro’s cock as he comes harder than he ever has.

 

Finally,  _ finally _ Shiro mutters that he’s close.  Keith is still dizzy with unbridled pleasure, but he can remember that he wants Shiro to claim him.  He throbs at the idea of Shiro’s come filling him up, spilling over, dripping down his thighs.

 

“Come inside me,” he gasps.  “Please, Daddy, come inside me, fill me up--fuck,  _ please _ .”

 

For a fleeting moment, Keith thinks that Shiro is going to pull out.  He prepares himself for it; the emptiness, the thick drops landing on his lower back.  But that never comes, and Shiro’s hips grind to a halt when he comes, so deep inside of Keith that he swears he can feel it in his womb.

 

_ Yes, yes, fuck yes. _  Keith shakes and cries out, warmth exploding inside of him.  It feels even more incredible than he could have imagined.  With his mind still riddled with arousal, Keith is a drooling mess when Shiro pulls out, and spreads him open until he drips onto the mattress.

 

There’s  _ so much _ .  Keith doesn’t think Shiro has ever come this much, before.  Keith feels legitimately filled, like he’s spilling over.  He presses his fingers to his cunt, trying to keep Shiro’s come inside of him to keep it there as long as possible.

 

Shiro rolls onto his back next to Keith and stares at him, expectant.  His pupils are blown wide as his chest heaves, but Keith is paying more attention to the fact that his cock is glistening and red and  _ begging _ for his mouth.

 

Keith feels more of Shiro’s come leak from him as he kneels between Shiro’s legs.  There is no preamble.  Keith takes Shiro into his mouth immediately, and tastes both of them, laving his tongue across the head.  He feels like a proper slave, cleaning up his mess, and his spine tingles when Shiro lovingly runs fingers through Keith’s hair.

 

“Did I do good, Daddy?” Keith asks, breathless, pressing Shiro’s cock against his cheek and staring wide-eyed at his master.

 

“You did so well, baby,” Shiro nods.  “You’re my good little whore.”

 

Keith nods, biting his lip before asking, “I’m yours, right?”

 

“All mine,” Shiro agrees. 

 

There’s something that is so possessive about Shiro’s tone that has Keith swooning.  Shiro  _ wants _ him.  Shiro needs him.  And, at that, Keith sighs in blissful contentment.  

 

Maybe his title as a slave isn’t so appropriate, anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is in reference to a song by yellowcard that totally does not fit the tone of this fic, i just love yellowcard lol. the full lyric is "it's not just you, i need this too"
> 
> my twit is @hitchups pls come hmu


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